Compulsion
by bookworm1137
Summary: NOT CURRENTLY UPDATING. UPDATES WILL RESUME AFTER I REACH A CERTAIN POINT IN MY OTHER STORY, "CALL ME CHAR."
1. The End

_So, for Ella Enchanted fans unfamiliar with Persuasion, there's nothing in particular you need to know – this is going to follow the story pretty faithfully, just molded to fit Ella's circumstances. For Persuasion fans unfamiliar with Ella Enchanted (If you're out there), the abridged version of what you missed: It's basically Cinderella. Ella is under a curse, such that she has to obey any direct order she hears. She's in love with Prince Charmont, but she knows that if she were to marry him, any enemy of the kingdom would be able to control him through her, so she wrote a letter pretending she'd married someone else. When our story begins, he'd just discovered her at his ball. There will be a little bit of direct repetition from the book, just to get into the swing of things. Which brings us to the…_

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ella Enchanted, and I definitely don't own anything up until "He glared at Hattie" - that part is DIRECTLY FROM THE BOOK. I don't own Persuasion, either, although that's not such a big deal in this prologue. Basically, everything belongs to either Gale Carson Levine or Jane Austen, and I'm just playing with combining their geniuses. Don't sue me.**_

**Prologue: The End**

**"**Ella!**"** Hattie shrieked.

Char gasped. "Ella?"

I broke away from him and began to run as the clock struck midnight. Char would have caught me in a moment, but Hattie must have held him somehow.

Outside, a huge pumpkin stood uselessly in the line of carriages. I continued to flee. A white rat skittered across my path. Somewhere I lost one of my slippers. I ran on, listening for pursuers.

At home, maybe Mandy would know what to do. Or I'd hide in the cellar, in the stable – somewhere. How could I have gone to the balls? To put Char and Kyrria in such danger!

"Mandy!" I shouted as soon as I reached the manor. A servant stared at me. I ran into the kitchen. "I've endangered Char again, and Kyrria! What can I do?"

"Pack your things," Mandy said as soon as she understood my rushed explanation.

"Where shall I go?"

"I'll come with you. We'll find work as cooks. Hurry."

"Can't you pack for us by magic?" She'd done it before. It was just small magic.

"Nothing is small magic in a moment like this. Go!"

Fairies! I raced to my room and began to throw things into my carpetbag. I had little; it would be the work of a minute. I heard the door open downstairs.

There were voices. We'd never manage to leave. I tore off my ball gown and donned my tattered servant's wear, rubbing the sooty skirt across my face. Over my hair I tied a ragged length of linen.

Nancy appeared at my door. "It's the prince! He wants to see everyone." I didn't move.

She giggled nervously. "He won't eat us, at least I hope not. Come."

I followed her, my heart drumming loud enough to drown out all thought.

He stood in the hall with his knights and our entire household. In the midst of all that was more important, I hated him to see me covered in rags and cinders.

I stationed myself behind the tallest manservant, but Char and the knights walked among us. Straining for a new disguise of servant and simpleton, I sucked on my fist and stared about vacantly.

Sir Stephan found me. "Here's a maid," he said. "Come, lass." He took my hand and pulled me to Char.

"Ella! Ella? Why are you dressed so?"

"Your Majesty, I'm..." I was about to deny my name, but Hattie spoke for me.

"That's only Cinders, the scullery maid," she said. "Sire, would you care for a refreshment now you're here?"

"She's a scullery maid?"

"A scullery maid. Of no account. But our cook, Mandy, has cakes fit for a prince."

The door wasn't far. Sir Stephan still held my hand. I pulled, but couldn't break away.

"Lass," Char said to me. "I won't hurt you, no matter what." He cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my face up to his. I wanted to catch his hand and kiss it.

As soon as we touched, I knew he recognized me. He brought my slipper out from his cloak. "It belonged to Ella, and will fit her alone, whether she is a scullery maid or a duchess."

A chair was brought. I wished for normal-sized feet.

"That's my slipper," Hattie said. "It's been missing for years."

"Your feet are too big," Olive blurted.

"Try it," Char told Hattie.

"I lost it because it kept falling off " She sat and removed her own slipper. I caught the familiar smell of her feet. She couldn't wedge her toes in.

"I'm younger than Hattie," Olive said. "So my feet are smaller. Probably."

They were bigger.

Now it was my turn. Char knelt, holding the slipper. I extended my foot and he guided it. The slipper fit perfectly, of course. What was I going to do?

His face was close to mine. He must have seen my terror. "You needn't be Ella if you don't want to be," he said softly.

He was so good.

"I'm not," I said. But in spite of myself, tears streamed down my cheeks.

I saw hope spread across his face. "That letter was rubbish. A trick." He glared at Hattie, but still, something lingered in his eyes, an uncertainty. "Wasn't it?" I said nothing, only stared at him miserably. "Ella, please. Just tell me, are you married?"

Even without the order, there was no point in trying to keep up the charade now. "No," I managed to choke out.

His face cleared. "I still love you, Ella. Even when I tried to stop. Will you marry me?"

I looked up at me, some small part of me dizzy with relief that it was a request, even as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Nothing had changed. I was still cursed, and I still couldn't marry him, but now I had to stand here and tell him so to his face. What could I say? How could I hurt him this way again? How was I going to give him up again?

My thoughts were interrupted by Hattie's screech. "_Marry_ you? She can't marry you. Don't marry him, Ella."

In a way, that made it all simpler. It was out of my hands now. I couldn't marry him, not now, not ever. I drew back a step, shaking my head, unable to see Char's face through my tears.

"Hattie-" Mum Olga cut in sharply. I could well imagine how she'd like to have her puppet stepdaughter as queen. But Char cut her off in turn.

"Ella." The pain in his voice was enough to make me stop breathing. "Ella, I can take you away from these people. They have nothing to do with us. But I need to know first, do you love me? Do you want to marry me?"

My throat froze. I knew what I needed to do, what I'd done once already. I needed to lie to him, and make him believe it, make him hate me. Again. But infinitely worse this time, face to face, and knowing full well that this would be the last time I saw him. No balls this time. No moments of weakness. But I didn't know how, didn't know if I even could.

And then, as if he knew what I needed, he spoke again, softly. "Ella, just tell me you don't love me. Tell me you don't love me, and I swear I'll go. Look me in the eye, and tell me."

My eyes rose against my will, locking on his. "I don't love you," I informed him dully.

It was as if I'd punched him. He sucked in a breath and turned away from me, and I wished there were a way to take it back, to smooth the lines from his face and kiss him and have the curse melt away like a bad dream. My little audience was shocked into silence, and into that silence Char uttered two words, utterly empty of emotion. "You don't?"

I couldn't take it anymore, this prince standing in front of me making me lie to him for his own good. Hysteria rose in me, and I found myself screaming. "No! I don't love you! I won't marry you! Please, just go! Get out!"

He staggered back a few steps, staring at me as if he'd never really seen me before. Even so desperately hurt and confused, he was the dearest thing in my world. I struggled to focus on his face for a last look, knowing that this time, it was really the end. I would never see him again.

He spun on his heels and left without a word. Sir Stephan followed, with one last bewildered glance in my direction. I stood stock-still, waiting until I heard his horse's hooves trotting away before I crumpled to the floor, sobbing. I could feel Mandy's warm arms around me as I wept myself out, pain slowly fading to blackness.

**. . .**

I woke slowly, disoriented. I was back in my bed, in the servants' quarters, and for a moment I entertained a crazy hope that this had all been a dream. Getting caught. The balls themselves. Hurting Char. Meeting Char. Everything, my whole cursed life, could be a dream. And when my mind caught up with me, the pain hit again in a rush, and I couldn't breathe, wanted to cry again, wanted to curl up in a ball and not feel anymore. But the time for crying was over now. I heard voices outside my door.

"What do you mean by this, Mandy? The wench is my servant, and I will have an explanation."

"With all due respect, mistress, you're not going in there. Ella's in enough pain as it is."

"And whose fault is that? So help me, Mandy, if you don't move out of my way…"

"Then what? You'll fire me?" She laughed harshly. "We both know that won't happen."

"Don't be so sure." Mum Olga's voice had lost all trace of its usual syrupy sweetness; it was pure ice. "Even your cooking isn't worth this… this insubordination!"

"I'll warn you right now, my lady, that Ella and I will probably be leaving this house anyway. I just want to talk to her, make sure that's what she wants."

There was a pause. "Leaving?"

"Mistress, even you must see that Ella almost certainly won't want to stay in the same city as Char. Not now." Even his name burned through me. Mandy was right – I wanted to be as far away from here as possible – away from this house, away from my stepfamily, and especially away from ever having to see Char's face again and know how much I'd hurt him. But I doubted Mum Olga would let me go – I would be trapped forever as her scullery maid, just as I'd known months ago, the day Lucinda told me she couldn't take back the curse. I realized I'd missed some of the conversation, and listened again.

"…Unfortunate, but I don't see why she couldn't just explain to him. To be queen–"

"Mistress, think about what you're saying. You know Ella's situation. Would you leave Kyrria open to any assassin who knew to give Ella a direct order?"

"Well, I suppose not, but–"

"But nothing. As long as she's cursed, Ella is a danger to herself and anyone who's close to her, but with the prince it's ten times worse, because he's so much in the public eye."

There was another pause. "I'd never thought of that. The dangers. Mandy, I want the girl out of my house. And surely you can see that the danger applies to you as well. There's no need for you to go with her. I'll keep you on."

Mandy sounded almost amused. "Of course. Nevertheless, I think I'll go with her. I owe her that. And I can take care of myself. Assuming that she wants to leave."

"I don't care if she wants to, she's going. I won't have her putting my girls in danger. Go with her if you must, but she's going, and good riddance. I'm sure her dear father will understand."

"I'm sure you're right," said Mandy slowly. After a moment, there was the sound of Dame Olga's heavy footsteps marching off down the hall, and my door swung gently open.

"Lady, you're awake," said Mandy. She didn't sound too surprised.

"I'm awake. How soon can we leave?"

"As soon as you're packed. If that's what you want. Oh, Lady, I don't know what you heard, but we needn't go if you don't want to. God knows this hasn't been much of a home for you, but if you'd rather stay in Frell, then don't worry about Dame Olga. Nor anything else. You did the right thing, there's no danger here anymore."

I didn't even really need to think about it. "No. There's nothing here for me. Not anymore."

Mandy sighed. "I thought you might feel that way. Well, I can get work anywhere. Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go?"

I thought. "It doesn't matter where, so long as it's far away from here."

We left the next day. We never came back to that house again.


	2. After the End

**Chapter 1: After the End**

We traveled around for a few months, taking work where we could find it. I'd never traveled much before, apart from that ill-fated trip to Uaxee's farm, and I might have enjoyed it now if I weren't utterly numb. After a while, the places started to blend together – manors, taverns, inns, always a new set of faces and orders.

Once, several lifetimes ago, I had dreamed of rising above the curse, becoming a queen to whom none dared issue a command. Now, in a lefthanded way, my wish was granted. I was below my curse. Now that I was away from Dame Olga, no one thought it strange that a servant girl followed orders, even the odd ones. I quickly learned I could never be a bar maid, not after obeying the third slurred command of "Come over here and sit on my lap, pretty thing." Mandy always packed us up and moved when that happened.

Mostly, though, I was Mandy's assistant, much as always. Sometimes she would pause and rephrase something, and I could tell she was being careful never to issue an order. But the others had no such qualms. So I cooked, and I cleaned, and I was the best worker my employers had ever seen. And sometimes, when my body moved against my will, it was almost restful. My curse was getting on with my life for me so that I was free to think about nothing.

The worst, though, was that I could never really escape him. He was the prince, after all, and it felt like I could barely turn around without hearing about his latest ball, the maidens he was rumored to be courting, the fine figure he made in a military uniform. The one piece of news I dreaded the most, never came: he never formed an engagement, and in the part of my mind that I still allowed to think about him, I wondered if he was still holding to his resolution never to marry. But even I knew such a thing couldn't last forever. One of his responsibilities as prince was to produce heirs, and he would find a way to accept that. I, on the other hand, would never marry. Too much danger, too much heartache.

One night when we were alone in a kitchen somewhere north of Bast, I turned to Mandy desperately. "Mandy, tell me not to think of him. Tell me not to love him."

She sighed. "Oh, sweets."

"I'm serious, Mandy."

"I know you are, but think what you're asking. Aren't you enough of a slave without your thoughts being obedient as well?"

The tears that were never far from the surface threatened to overtake me. "I just… I can't bear it anymore. When Lucinda told me to be happy about the curse, I might have been a slave, but I was happy. I want to be happy again. Please, Mandy."

I didn't convince her. Three days later we moved again, this time all the way to Ayortha.

**. . .**

Things were a little better after that. We settled at a little inn called The Bumblebee, in our old roles of cook and scullery maid. I was already almost fluent in Ayorthaian, but when it all got to be too much I could let the words roll off me without trying to understand. I worked, and I obeyed, and I could well and truly withdraw from whatever else was going on around me.

I had found that even if I didn't listen to an order, even if I didn't understand it, if I didn't think too much I could obey automatically. Before, this would have been dangerous. Before, I had had to listen carefully, to find a way to obey without really obeying, to steer the conversation away from anything that might be an offhand, dangerous order. Here, nobody talked to me except to tell me what to do.

Mandy, of course, was the exception, and to her I talked of everything, of fairy tales and recipes, of the absurdities of the noble guests and the small tragedies of the common ones. Still, I could tell she worried about me. When she thought I wasn't looking, I would find her frowning at me. But after the first few futile conversations about making friends and getting on with my life, she stopped trying to reason with me. She knew better than to mention his name.

What surprised me was how quickly it all became natural. After a few months I could go for days at a time without thinking of him, and after a year I could even stop reminding myself not to think of him. I floated through my days almost painlessly.

I had passed nearly seven years in this way when Mandy came into the kitchen holding a letter. "This arrived for you today, Lady."

Confused, I accepted the letter. Who would write to me? Who even knew I was here? But taking a letter from Mandy stirred memories I'd rather not dwell on, so I tore it open roughly, hoping for a distraction.

My wish could not have been granted more thoroughly. The letter was from Olive, of all people. I had no idea how she'd found me, and she apparently didn't feel the need to explain.

Deer Ella,

I am mareed now. He dus wat I tell him too, lik you. You shud come se me. I hav ben feeling poarly. You mak me feel beter. I am livving at the ayortheun cort. Come.

Yore frend,

Olive

Mandy, who'd been reading over my shoulder, straightened as she read the last word. "You don't have to go, Ella," she told me quickly.

I sighed as I felt the curse release its hold on me, and turned my attention back to my letter. I didn't think Olive even knew she'd issued an order. She'd never really understood how the curse worked, only that I did what she told me to. And apparently she now had a husband who did that as well.

Olive married! I couldn't credit it. I wondered if perhaps he had married her for her money. If so, he was in for a surprise. I couldn't imagine Olive ever willingly relinquishing a cent.

"What do you think, Mandy? Should we go to her?"

Mandy looked genuinely shocked, a rare enough occurrence. "It's your decision, Lady," she said, but I could hear the doubt in her voice. Certainly I had never been exactly fond of Olive. But there was no malice in her – even when she was ordering me about, her wants were straightforward. She treated me no differently than she treated her family – the only difference was that I had to listen to her.

So now for her to say that I made her feel better, to call herself my "frend," it struck a chord with me. I had been disconnected for so long. "I think we should go," I said slowly.

Mandy said nothing for a long moment. "Okay then." And we both went to start packing.

**. . .**

I had expected to be at least a little sorry to leave. I might have spent most of my time at The Bumblebee in a holding pattern, but it was the place where I'd found a measure of peace. It had been home for the better part of seven years. And yet I barely glanced back as the coach pulled away. Home, for me, was with Mandy. She was all that anchored me to this life anymore. And since she was coming with me, I had nothing to regret.

It was a dull three-day coach ride to the Ayorthaian capital of Allara, but when we got there Olive was waiting for us at the palace gates. A dark-haired man with a mustache who was easily a foot taller than her was standing beside her grinning with his hand on her waist, but she seemed to take no notice of him. He looked vaguely familiar. "Ella!" Olive cried, bounding forward to clasp me in a vice-like hug.

I smiled awkwardly, unable to move my arms even enough to return the hug. "It's good to see you, Olive," I told her, surprised to find it was true.

When she finally pulled back, the dark-haired man swooped forward, his hand held out. "It's good to meet you, Ella. I'm Sir Charles of Mussgrove, Olive's husband. She's told me all about you." A knot of fear clenched my stomach. What exactly had Olive told him? How much did he know of the curse? I had gotten out of the habit of worrying about strangers, in these years of invisibility, and I realized now that I was opening myself up to more danger now by returning to someone who not only knew me, but knew what I was, and wouldn't trouble herself to be discreet about it.

I swallowed once and forced a smile. "Nice to meet you too, sir. And this is my… friend, Mandy." Mandy gave a wry smile and a little wave but didn't make any move to come closer.

"Well, you are both most welcome. And we'll have none of this "sir" nonsense. What do titles matter among family? Can I take your bags? Our rooms are in the southern wing."

It hadn't even occurred to me to wonder why they were living at court. Was Charles some kind of royalty? I couldn't find a polite way to ask, so I settled for "I hope we're not putting you out. Will you have enough room for us?"

Charles waved an expansive hand. "Of course, of course. My dear cousin has provided for us most comfortably." His cousin? He seemed to take it for granted that we knew who his cousin was, perhaps believing Olive had been corresponding with me.

"Well, we appreciate your hospitality." Just then we arrived at his rooms, and I nearly dropped my bag in shock. Oh, it was lovely, of course – a bit larger than the lower floor of our old manor, with at least three glass windows and several rich silk brocade curtains and pillows thrown about almost at random. The whole room gave the impression of more wealth than taste. I was sure Olive was pleased. But what caught me off guard was that on the couch, in the arms of a nursery, was a three-year-old boy.

Catching the direction of my gaze, Charles smiled. "And this is our dear little Henry." I glanced at Olive, who made no movement to greet her "dear little Henry." For the life of me, I couldn't imagine her as a mother.

Charles hefted Mandy's trunk and my two bags and strode out of the room. Silence fell, broken only by the cooing of the little boy as his nursemaid engaged him in a game of peek-a-boo. Unsure what to do now, I perched gingerly on the edge of a too-soft sofa. Olive plopped down next to me. "Talk to me."

I had been prepared for this moment. "Olive, I came here because you asked me to, as your guest, but I won't have you ordering me about. I'm not your maid anymore."

Her brow furrowed. "But you still have to do what I tell you to."

"Yes, but I don't have to stay here if you're going to abuse that power."

She took a moment to consider this. "Don't go. I don't want you to go."

I shook my head. "That's all well and good, but if I want to go, Mandy will tell me to go."

"I've been ill," she informed me plaintively.

"Then I'm sorry for you. And I'll do what I can to help you, but you must ask me, not tell me what to do."

She paused again. I was sure I was reaching the limit of her reasoning capacities, but this was important if I was to stay here. "How shall I ask you?"

"Well, for example, you could say 'Ella, would you please talk to me?'"

"Ella, would you please talk to me?" she parroted.

I smiled in victory. "Certainly, Olive. What shall I talk about?"

"I don't know. Anything." This was certainly her usual response. I gave a small sigh.

"Shall I tell you about the past seven years?" She nodded seriously. "And then perhaps you could tell me what you've been doing." She looked less certain about this, but managed a nod. "Good. Now, before I begin, I need to ask – have you told your husband about me?"

She frowned. "Told him about what?"

I decided to take that as a no. If Charles knew about the curse, I would find out soon enough. He reentered the room as I began, "Well, for several years now, Mandy and I have been working at an inn called The Bumblebee…"


End file.
